Death's Kiss
by Orli's EEPs Chica
Summary: After Christine leaves the Opera house with Raoul at her side, she finds that she is cursed. As she is suddenly thrown into a world of darkness, she finds that the only one who can save her is the man she rejected- an angel in hell EC
1. Daylight Dissolves Into Darkness

**Death's Kiss**

By: Orli's EEPs Chica

A/N: Hello to all! I finally got down to writing an Erik-Christine story; at least, I think that's what it will be, provided that there are no unsuspected deaths. But only time will tell of that. This is really my first stab at doing this sort of pairing, and I really hope that you all like this. Just so everyone knows: I'm setting this directly after the conclusion of the Andrew Lloyd Webber movie (haven't seen the actual show.) There may be stuff included from Gaston Leroux's novel, and from Susan Kay's Phantom.

On that note, the disclaimer before I forget: Don't own the story/play/movie Phantom of the Opera. Don't own the awesome lyrics (which I make several references to). Nor do I own Erik. (sob) So don't sue me, and we'll get along fine!

And do feel free to leave me your comments- feedback gives me reason to write faster! And to those who feel the need to flame, I invite you to do so if you must.

Well, now that I have rambled, I give you the story without further ado!

Read, review, and enjoy!

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Chapter 1- Daylight Dissolves into Darkness 

"_Down once more to the dungeon of my black despair. . ."_

Christine Daae tossed and turned in her sleep of fervent dreams, mind reeling as she relived the hours that had both defined that broken her life. A light sweat had broken out on her brow, though the room in which she slept was cold. Her dark, gossamer curls became tangled in the midst of her fitful restlessness.

"_Angel of music. . . you deceived me. . ."_

His outline appeared before her, an apparition created by the dream, but a believable one nonetheless. She stretched out her hand to him as the music played in her ears.

_"Pitiful creature of darkness. . . what kind of life have you known? God give me courage to show you. . . you are not alone. . ."_

She knew what was coming next- his outline grew closer... This dream was sending her back to heaven, she thought subconsciously.

She sat bolt upright suddenly, her heart pounding.

Looking around wildly, she saw only darkness for a moment as her eyes adjusted to the light- or lack thereof. When they did so, she examined the room very closely, with a nervous feeling in her chest. Something had shaken her from the dream- something powerfully soundless... something that moved in the dark.

She was sure it had been something.

But looking around, she saw, to her frustration, nothing.

The room was completely empty, and she was completely alone.  
At least, that was what Christine Daae thought as she reclined once more on the goose feather pillows and drew the satin sheets up to her chin. Safely in this room at Raoul de Chagny's house, she assured herself that whatever had awakened her had been another dream-induced illusion.

It was nothing, she thought, closing her eyes once more, trying to think of light. . . trying to think of Raoul. She felt the outline of her ring in the dark- the gold band, adorned with a sizeable diamond that he had given her, a promise of love and new life. She tried to think of happiness, of sun...

But her thoughts strayed to darkness- the comfort of that place, with candles burning all around and the sound of the organ playing softly and his voice soaring through the air to meet her ears and caress her senses. He was the Angel, and that was his Heaven. But it had also been his hell, she thought. His prison, his jail.

As Christine began to fall asleep, she thought not of her fiancé, but of the Angel- the man- who still held a large piece of her heart.

She didn't know how long it had been before she was jerked from sleep again, this time by a noise that she heard distinctly- and one that she knew had come from this world.

Someone had opened and shut the door.

She swallowed hard. There was a strange ringing in her ears- a strange sound against the hollowness of the silent house.

Christine suddenly felt as though she were not alone in the room. There was a presence all around her, touching her everywhere she went. She sat up uneasily, ready to run to Raoul, who she knew was sleeping down the hall.

Suddenly, a great gust of wind blew in as the French doors in Christine's room blew open. The sheer white curtains billowed out toward her, stretching out like spectral arms, reaching for her. She felt her breath catch in her throat. Those doors had been locked, she thought, terrified. She had locked them herself, before she had gone to bed. They could only be opened from the inside...

Which meant that someone was here now.

Christine got out of bed, shivering violently, and shut the doors firmly, locking them and staring for a moment at the dead bolt, as if trying to reassure herself that she wasn't crazy.

Going back to her bed, she covered herself once more, and rolled over to look at the small clock on her night table. It read twelve a.m.- midnight- but as she looked closer, she realized with a feeling of dread that the second hand had stopped ticking.

The French doors rattled again, before bursting open.

Christine's mouth opened in a silent scream. She jumped out of bed, and hurried to the door, unwilling to stay a moment longer in this room. Propriety be damned, she would sleep in Raoul's room tonight.

The door wouldn't budge.

With horror, she tried in vain to turn the knob.

She pounded on the door, still unable to scream, unable to make any noise at all.

And then, as though someone had turned off the sound, everything became silent. A deep, frightening, bone-chilling silence descended.

Christine's pounding stopped, and for several moments she did not breathe- merely stood, listening, her hand shaking on the doorknob.

Then, a singular sound met her ears; a sound which seemed far away, yet very close at the same time.

It was a sound she recognized- a violin, playing a hauntingly familiar song.

Everything around her seemed to turn to ice as the cold fear of memory took hold of her.

_Wandering child, so lost, so helpless. . . yearning for my guidance. . ._

He couldn't be here, she thought. He wouldn't have followed her here...

Or would he?

Was it possible that he was here, now?

_Angel of music, I denied you. . ._

Her own words spun around in her head, mocking her.

_Turning from true beauty. . ._

The grave, the song, the man. . . her mind began to fall past her control, longing to hear his voice, just one more time.

_Angel of music, my protector. . . come to me strange Angel-_

"No!" she said sharply, finally regaining her voice, which sounded strange against the backdrop of silence. "He isn't here," she muttered to herself. "This is a dream, nothing more."

Taking a calming breath, she removed her hand from the door.

She would go back to sleep, she thought. She would climb back into bed, and in the morning, she would laugh at this strange dream. She shut the doors again, struggling to move a heavy chair in front of them. As for the clock. . . she would see to that in the morning.

She closed her eyes, praying for sleep to take her.

Her dreams were strange- there were black figures around her, shrouded and shadowlike so that they showed no facial details; they were merely silhouettes. In the back of her mind, Christine heard dull thuds that sounded like footsteps, but her brain refused to focus on them, and she was powerless to manipulate her senses to concentrate on the certain aspect of the dream.

It wasn't for a few more moments that she realized that the footsteps were quite real. Too late to react, she felt a cold, slimy hand cover her mouth, stifling the terrified scream that threatened to escape. Her heart hammered against her chest, and with a terrifying jolt, Christine opened her eyes and realized that the hand over her mouth- skeletal and decaying, was covered in blood...

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A/N: well, there's chapter 1. Any guesses on who is in Christine's room? Review and tell me if I should continue- I will try to post again soon, depending on the feedback I get. 


	2. Insolent Boy

Chapter 2- Insolent Boy

A/N: thanks to those who reviewed chapter 1! Made me feel loved!

CloudxinxCrimson- i laughed sooooo hard when i read your review- seriously; i was like, on the floor laughing my head off. I love it! hope you like this chapter!

Fox of the Nova- you think its creepy now? just wait! .:insert evil grin here:. Muahahahahahaha!

Lost Schizophrenic- you think so? We'll see……

TheOneandOnlySkippy- blood makes me sick too… but for some reason, I have no problem writing it! thanks for your review!

M- here's your update!

Tiniwiel- ...:bows:... wow- that's the most compliments I've gotten in a while. I'm thrilled that you like my writing style! So you think it's Erik too? Hmmm…. We'll see. :wink: I think you should definitely write a phan fic! I will soooo read it!

AussieLass and Lioness-Rampant- welcome aboard… glad to hear you like it!

Umm.. sorry to have to do this, but this chappie introduces the fop. Go with me here, its all part of my master plan. .:more maniacal laughter:...

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Bright sunlight streamed in through the window the next morning. The pale streaks of light shone on the bed in Christine's room, and on the night table, reflecting off of the brass of the clock, which was ticking as though it had never stopped. The room was silent, as is any room in the hours between waking and sleeping.

The French doors were closed, the curtains arranged primly, leaving no evidence of being blown open. Indeed, everything seemed as though it was as it should be. That was, until Raoul made his way to the room a short while later.

Unlike his fiancé, the Vicomte deChagny had had a peaceful night's rest. Now, having dressed quickly, he had his mind on looking in on Christine. He had wanted to stay with her last night, but she had assured him that she would be fine alone. Which was something he found unbelievable, considering the ordeal she had just been through, only two nights ago.

Thank God that was over, he thought as he turned down the hall that would take him to Christine's door. He would see to it that she never returned to the Opera again. The last thing he needed was to have Christine delude herself that she had any feelings whatsoever for that man... that bastard... that... that…. Erik.

Raoul knew that he was jealous of the Phantom. Christine had fallen for his voice- obviously, he thought, who could fall for his face? - She had obeyed his words, and from them had formed some strange attachment to him...

Raoul wanted to believe that Christine loved him and him alone, but he had always had the sinking feeling, even when they kissed, that Christine was often thinking of something else.

He pushed the thought from his mind.

In a few months, they would be married anyway, and if he could wrangle it, far away from Paris. Perhaps they'd go to London, or maybe even the Mediterranean. They could take a holiday... a very long holiday.

He knocked on her door. "Christine?" he called lightly.

There was no answer.

"Christine?"

He turned the doorknob and stepped in.

She was gone.

Her bed was empty, the sheets and covers still rumpled, as though she had just lie on them.

A cold, gripping sensation came over Raoul. Christine was not here. Where then, he asked himself. Where had she gone?

His heart sank down to the floor, and then further down, into hell.

Where else would she go?

Surely not out for a morning stroll.

She had returned to the Opera.

"Why?" he muttered under his breath. "Why the hell would she go back there?" He ran his fingers through his long, well-maintained hair (A/N: fop bashing, couldn't resist!) and inhaled deeply. "She didn't go herself," he mused. "The monster called her. He used his voice to call her to him. She'd want me to rescue her."

_What if she doesn't?_ His inner conscience debated. _What if she left because she wanted to?_

Raoul ground his teeth together, seething at the thought. Christine wouldn't leave him, not after what had happened.

Would she?

Maybe he was being irrational, he thought. Paranoid. There was a logical explanation for all of this. Still, he knew that affairs concerning the Phantom of the Opera more often than not defied explanation.

Attempting to keep a calm temper, he awakened his servants, demanding to know precisely who had seen Christine that morning.

To his despair, no one had.

An hour later, he was back in her room, considering his options. She was gone. . . his Little Lotte had left. Should he go to the police? Report a kidnapping? He didn't even know if Christine had left of her own accord.

There was only one other solution he could think of, and it was one that didn't appeal to him in the slightest.

He would go back to the Opera house, and find Erik- the fiend who had nearly ruined his life.

And if the phantom had Christine, Raoul thought, this time, he would kill him.

A/N: all right- enter the fop! just a quick question: does anyone CARE if i bash Raoul? I mean, the guy means well I guess, but ERIK AND CHRISTINE ALL THE WAY! At least, in this story.

KEEP THE REVIEWS COMING, PEOPLE!

**Next chapter**: Raoul goes "down once more"... to meet you-know-who! But will Christine be there? Well if I told you, then it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?

Also: I will try to post soon, but I'm kind of pressed for time now, due to final exams (kill me now someone, please!) and the crapload of other final stuff that I have to deal with now. But I will do my best!


	3. Down Once More

Chapter 3- Down Once More

As Raoul stepped onto the curb, a horse-drawn brougham immediately swept over to meet him.

"Where to, Monsieur?" the driver inquired.

"To the Opera," Raoul snapped sharply. "As quick as you can."

The door to the cab closed, and with a flick of the driver's whip, they were off.

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_It's over now, the music of the night..._

In the depths of the Opera, there was a silence that seemed to be supernatural. There had been no music for two days, and there would be no music ever again. In the depths of his black despair, the Phantom of the Opera laid in the confines of his small room, in the cold, rigid coffin that was his bed, waiting for death. It was not an easy visitor to lure, when one was not suffering any visible bodily harm. But Erik knew that the ailment that was killing him was something far more painful then any wound that bled.

He was dying of a broken heart.

He was dying- but death refused to let him go, refused to let him leave this pitiful earth. Erik supposed that this was because he wasn't wanted in Heaven. There was no place for such a monster among the flawless angels. He would have to settle for an eternity in Hell, he thought.

Fine.

He didn't care; Christine wouldn't be there, so it didn't matter. She would go on and live her life with her husband the Vicomte, living lavishly as she traveled around the world, giving no thought to her poor, unhappy Erik who thought of her every waking moment. Poor, damned Erik who heard her voice in his mind, whose lips still burned from the one kiss she had given him in despair and ignorance. She hadn't understood the damage that that kiss had done. It had flung the angel from hell directly to Heaven, giving him- for once in his life- hope. Hope that had sprung up like a young flower from the barren earth, only to be ripped out of the ground when she had left him.

He had been doomed to walk in darkness, from the day he had drawn his first breath. There was no penance large enough, no way to atone for the sin of his scarred, deformed face. How evil it was; the deformity shaped its way so that only one side of his face was flawed, leaving the other perfect and smooth, a painful reminder of what could have been...

Lying miserably in his coffin, the Phantom knew all too well that he would find no peace. Whenever he closed his eyes, Christine was all he saw; when he dreamed, his dreams were full of her. His ears constantly rang with the symphony of her voice- her voice, which had condemned him to this terrible fate of eternal loneliness.

He had no conception of the amount of time that had gone by when a different sound met his ears- a sound not conjured by his mind, but instead the last thing on earth that he wanted to hear.

Footsteps.

Something sloshing carelessly through the shallow underground stream, as if making no attempt to be swift and silent.

This certainly wouldn't do, thought Erik, arousing himself from his coffin and placing in his hand his weapon of choice- a Punjab lasso. The lasso was a wonderful invention, he thought as he stealthily made his way to the main room of his cavernous lair. It could kill instantly, or it could choke life by the inch out of a person, prolonging death and serving for an altogether painful experience. Pity the poor soul who would be on the receiving end of the line today, he thought, but he was not in a particularly compassionate mood. Whoever had dared to disturb his domain would be dealt with; he would leave no time for begging.

Erik had intended to make the murder quick; a hurried toss and a quick yank and it would be done... until he saw who it was wading into his home.

A cold, sneer crept across his lips.

Raoul deChagny.

_The insolent bastard_, he thought. _How dare he come back here now, after all the damage he's done already? _

His next thought was that it would be a pleasure to kill the fop. There was no Christine to save the bumbling Viscount now- he would meet his end tonight and find his resting place in a watery grave.

He watched as Raoul scrambled out of the lake, wringing out his shirt, jacket, and hair, taking an extra moment to brush the unruly strands back into their foppishly perfect places.

Raoul didn't notice Erik crouched in the shadows, eyes ever watchful and piercing. He walked uncertainly around, looking in every direction. He made the mistake of turning his back to the Phantom's hiding place, and Erik exploited the chance to jump out and coil the Punjab around his neck.

Raoul gasped in shock as Erik forced him against the wall, tightening the rope around his neck.

"You've intruded in my domain for the last time, boy!" Erik snarled ferally, sounding more animal that man.

Raoul gasped for breath.

"I've waited for this day," the Phantom went on. "Oh yes. I've been waiting for this day for a long time, my dear Vicomte."

"You don't- understand," Raoul choked. "_Christine..."_

"Don't say her name!" Erik roared. "Don't you say her name in my presence! It wasn't enough for you to rob me of her, was it? You found the need to come gloat of your triumph, no doubt?"

"Christine!" Raoul gasped again, fingers clawing at the rope in a pathetic attempt to free himself.

Erik tightened the rope once more, and Raoul began to see dark spots appear before his eyes. There was no remorse in the Phantom's eyes. It was time to finish this, he thought.

The Viscount, he saw, was making a final attempt to say something.

"Listen!" he rasped. "Christine...She- she's_- g-gone_!"

There was a dull thudding sound as the rope slipped from Erik's fingers.

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A/N: Hoo! Angry Erik! I like writing Angry Erik, it makes me happy for some weird reason! So what do we think? Hmmm? REVIEW!

Next chapter: find out just where Christine is, and why! You'll never guess….


	4. Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Chapter 4- Stranger Than You Dreamt It

A/N: TMOTN: cool! Hurry up with the outline for your story- I would love to read it!

Bumble0Bee- interesting, but not quite

CloudxinxCrimson- you always make me laugh! thanx for your reviews!

Merinna- I read your review, and know that I do sort of agree with you on Raoul. I do think that he was a nice guy, if slow as you said, (except for the whole deal with him taking Christine away from Erik and all.) Also know that I have no intention of making him villianous, I just feel as though his inevitable fop-ism can be exploited humorous purposes. But he won't be evil, I don't think.

Daroga Daae- you read my mind. That is frightening. (you'll see why later;)

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The first thing that Christine felt was a sharp, stabbing pain in the back of her head. She tried to reach up to touch the wound- whatever it was- but realized that her hands were bound together tightly by a coarse rope. The air around her smelled dank and stagnant, as though it hadn't been breathed in for many decades. She heard the slow, steady dripping of water from somewhere close by. _Where am I?_ She thought fervently, though she kept her eyes closed. The scent of the air and the sound of the water reminded her of Erik's, but there was a feeling of cold foreboding that she had never felt during her time in his labyrinth. Suddenly, a thousand whispers erupted around her; voices that she could not discern whether men or women were speaking. They were not speaking a language that she understood either; the words fell into a repeating pattern as her mind placed them together; they were chanting... 

And then... there was silence.

"She'sss awake..." came a husky whisper, though it sounded slightly feminine.

A presence moved closer to her, and Christine felt someone- or something- touch her shoulder. The contact sent a shockwave of cold surging through her; similar to being thrown into a pool of ice water. She gasped, but refused to open her eyes. There was more cold laughter.

"Open your eyes, little dove," a deep, silky male voice said. "It will be worse for you if you don't."

Praying that this was all a nightmare, Christine slowly pried her frightened eyes open.

When they focused on the creatures before her, Christine opened her mouth and let out a shrill, petrified scream.

_They were dead!_ she thought in disgust. Their faces, their hands, their bodies... they were all corpses!

They were clothed in exotic garb; the ones that Christine took to be women wore long, flowing multicolored skirts and the men wore long tunics and headbands.

The skeletons saw Christine's look of horror and laughed again at her.

Christine felt her head spinning- the creatures were swirling around her wildly so that she couldn't focus, their laughter was like the worst music in the world, taunting her and depleting her sanity.

"Who are you!" she screamed suddenly.

The whole room went pitch black, and the laughter ceased.

"What are you?" Christine whispered, sliding back on the stone floor.

A pair of glowing red eyes suddenly turned on her in the dark, piercing eyes that she knew were dead.

"What are we, you ask, my dear?" the eyes seemed to say to her, in that same voice so low that it seemed to reach a new scale that no human voice could ever attempt. "Are you certain that you want to know?"

Christine recoiled, unsure what her answer should be. A large part of her didn't want to know anything at all.

Nonetheless, the voice continued. "We are the Undead Ones. We have no souls, and no hope of redemption in this life. This is our domain; under the streets of Paris."

The words struck a familiar chord with Christine. It was strikingly similar to another story she had heard. Erik had said that he was an 'Angel in Hell'. And like these things, he lived beneath the mortal world... But he wasn't one of these, she thought. He couldn't be. He was different… he was alive.

The eyes laughed softly. "No, my dear, Erik is not one of us," he said silkily.

Christine could not suppress a gasp. This thing could read her mind!

"But he could have been," the voice went on darkly. "Had he not escaped, he would have been damned, too."

"Escaped?" Christine whispered.

"Of course, my little dove. We were once gypsies."

"I don't understand," Christine said. She had never heard of Erik's past; she knew only that it had obviously been filled with sorrow. The story that her fiancé had heard from Madame Giry had never reached Christine's ears- Raoul had thought that it might cause Christine to pity Erik further, and in doing so, she might choose Erik over himself.

"You have not heard the tale yet?" He chuckled, but in a way that made Christine's soul tremble. "Then you should be educated..."

More of the spiteful laughter rang out, coming from several voices at once. A thick, glowing white fog began to encompass Christine as she was thrown from her world, and into the darkness of Erik's past.

_It was night... she was standing outside what looked to be a large carnival. _

_She felt very small, and looking at her hands, Christine realized that she was no longer a young woman, but a young girl of no more than ten. _

_There were bonfires burning inside the gates of the fairgrounds, and she followed several other excited children inside. _

_There were gypsies all around- tall and slender and clad in exotic outfits. Some had crystal balls; some had some other kind of devilry. There were several tents set up, but in the center of the fairground was a large, circus-like tent, large enough to hold a crowd of people. A fat gypsy man was standing outside of the tent, beckoning the children and other folk forward. Over his head, Christine saw a sign that read, to her horror, "The Devil's Child". _

"_Come," the gypsy said in a deep voice. "Come... come inside... Come and see the Devil's Child!" _

_He swept the curtain aside, and Christine followed the line inside. In the rafters above, a monkey chirped in what seemed a cynical way to Christine. _

_In the center of the circus tent was a cage. Christine's legs began to tremble as she moved closer. She heard the other children scream with naive delight as they looked upon the figure in the cage. _

_It was a young boy, gaunt and skinny, who looked more like a corpse than a boy. And his face... half of it was perfect, and boyish. But the other half looked very familiar to Christine. This was Erik, as a child. _

_The boy looked frightened beyond description as he cowered in a corner of the cage, trying to keep one hand over his face. His whole body was shaking violently. The crowd around Christine jeered and laughed at the boy, taunting him to show his face. Then, Christine watched with horror as another gypsy entered the cage, with a large whip in hand. He slashed it out, striking Erik across the shoulder. He let out a small cry of pain, but didn't move. _

"_Come on, boy!" the gypsy roared at him, lashing out with the whip once more. Erik stood, and removed the hand that hid his face. The crowd screamed and laughed in a frightful hysteria at the freak before them. _

_Christine felt tears stinging her eyes. The gypsies began moving people out of the tent, letting more in. Erik would try to recoil away from the crowds, only to be beaten into action once more. _

_As the time wore on, Christine's cheeks were soaked with her tears, and she continued to cry. In this dream-conjured world, no one seemed to notice her at all. _

_Finally, the last customers were gone, and the tent emptied, save for Erik, Christine, and the gypsy who Christine took to be Erik's keeper. _

_The gypsy entered the cage, still holding the whip._

_Erik's cries filled the tent as the man began to beat him. Christine covered her mouth with her hands, suppressing the screams that threatened to come forth. _

_Erik was now lying on the floor of the cage, hands gripping the cage bars as though they could somehow save him. He was squeezing them so tightly that his knuckles turned white and his fingers shook with effort. The lashings started again. _

_Erik's cries became too much. _

"_**Erik**!" Christine cried. "Good God, stop! Erik! Erik!" She ran forward to the cage, but neither the gypsy nor Erik so much as looked at her. They couldn't see her, and she was powerless to stop it. _

_Finally, after several more agonizing minutes, the gypsy left the cage, locking it, and pocketing the key. _

_Erik remained lying almost lifelessly on the cage floor. _

_Christine came up and gripped the bars, looking on the poor boy before her with tear-stained eyes. _

_She gasped when she saw his back- raw and bleeding from being whipped. Beneath the blood, she saw other long, thin scars that cut across his scrawny back. _

"_Oh, Erik," she whispered. Everything was now making sense to her. With a life like this, it was no wonder Erik had chosen to live alone and feared to show his face. No wonder he wore a mask. And she- Christine- had been the only love he had ever known in his life... _

And I betrayed him_, Christine thought_. All he wanted was my love, and I denied him that. It wasn't his fault... the murders... the obsession. He never knew... he never knew right from wrong...

_Christine rested her forehead against the bar, crying hard. What had she done, by leaving him? How could she have ever been so blind? _

_Through her sobs, she almost didn't realize Erik stir in the cage. _

_Almost. _

_She raised her head and found herself face to face with his piercing green eyes, the eyes that still haunted her when she closed her eyes. For an instant, it was as though he could see her. He blinked, as though afraid he was seeing a mirage. _

"_It's me, Erik," Christine said. "It's Christine... your angel! Don't you see me!" she cried as she saw his gaze settle on something behind her. She was invisible to him. The mist swirled up again, and Christine felt herself being pulled away from the cage._

"_Erik!" Christine screamed, before she was hurled back into the unforgiving darkness of the Hell that she couldn't escape. _

"Now you know, Christine Daae," the spectral being hissed, red eyes flashing. "That was the life that Erik lived. He belonged to us, until the day he escaped..."

"How?" Christine breathed.

"Would you like to see?"

"Y-yes..."

More fog engulfed her. This time, Christine felt as though she was watching the scene from above.

_It was very dark; the tent was illuminated only by a few torches. The large gypsy opened the cage but dropped the keys as the door swung open. As he stooped down to pick them up, Erik shot out of the cage with an inhuman quickness. _

_His keeper swore loudly and lunged out, just barely managing to catch the small boy, wrestling him to the ground. He was far larger than Erik, but the boy fought viciously. Finally, Christine saw Erik pull something from his captor's back pocket... a long knife. Clumsily, Erik slid the knife into the gypsy's back. The man howled in pain, and rolled off of Erik, leaving him free to scramble off the floor. The sound of hurried footsteps sounded suddenly, and Christine knew that the other gypsies had been alerted.  
She saw Erik look around wildly, then run as fast as he could from the tent. _

_A tall female gypsy entered the tent and ran to the man on the ground, who still had the knife lodged in his back, blood pouring out onto the ground. _

_She swore loudly in the gypsy language, seeing that the man was dead. She said something to the others, then stood up and raised both of her hands toward the sky, chanting words that Christine didn't understand. _

Her words faded out as the memory ended.

The voice didn't speak again, and there was silence for several minutes until Christine asked timidly, "Why have you brought me here? What does any of this have to do with me?"

The voice laughed softly again. "You will see, in time, that befriending Erik was your worst mistake, Christine Daae. Now you won't ever be free, you see. Erik, like us, is cursed."

"But you said that he wasn't one of you..." Christine argued, confused.

"No... he is not. He is under a different curse... one that will make both he and you suffer. You see, Christine, when a gypsy is murdered, his loved ones will seek vengeance for the one who murdered him. The woman you saw cursed him as he fled into the night. Her curse was simple: that should Erik ever experience one moment of true happiness, of true love, he would be forced to see his love suffer eternally in the world of the undead." His voice took on an excited tone. "And here you are... the only person to have ever loved a monster... and you, like him Christine Daae, are damned for all time!"

A sickening light filled the room, casting dark shadows on the wall as the gypsies around her began to circle her once more in their strange pagan dance, singing, chanting and laughing... laughing... laughing...

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A/N: well, that was my longest chapter yet! So what do you think? Creepy? Weird? Are you thinking that I may have lost my mind? It will only get stranger, my friends, so do prepare yourselves. Next chapter, we'll hear from the one and only Erik again!

Also: I took some serious creative liscence on the whole thing about Erik's past and the whole 'undead gypsy' thing. Its all the workings of my twisted mind! so REVIEW!


	5. Darkness Deep as Hell

Chapter 5- Darkness Deep as Hell

A/N: okay... this scene with the graveyard thing was inspired by the Disney movie the Hunchback of Notre Dame, which is one of my FAVORITE Disney movies. Oh come on- you've all seen it! And if you haven't, go watch it! But yeah... that's my inspiration for this section, and the whole concept of the gypsies living underground kind of came from there too. Though needless to say, the motives were definitely different.

Also... I don't really like how this chapter came out as far as the dialogue between Erik and Raoul goes. It's just very awkward putting them in this situation together... so go with me here!

Also: I HAVE THE SACRED DVD! IT IS MINE AT LAST! MUAHAHAHAHA!

so naturally, i'm seriously inspired! the movie ROX and everybody needs to see it!

* * *

Raoul gasped for air, having just been spared being strangled to death. The Phantom had backed away in disbelief. 

"Gone?" he growled. "What do you mean?"  
"I mean," said Raoul with obvious contempt in his voice, "that she has left, leaving no trace of where she might have gone. So I had assumed that you would have lured her back here."

"She's not here," Erik responded.

"Yes, I can see that," Raoul countered dryly. "I suppose I'll go, then," he said, but Erik stepped in front of him.

"No you won't."

"Do not try to stop me, Phantom!" he said authoritatively. "My fiancé is missing, and I do not have the time to stay down here and fight with you!"  
"Do you think," Erik spat, "that I am going to sit here and do nothing while Christine is missing?" He looked at Raoul as though the thought were unthinkable.

"This is my affair to take care of," said Raoul. "Not yours. You have interfered with Christine enough already. In fact," he said, "she has already told me that she doesn't wish to see you again. You... you frighten her... she's afraid of you."

None of this was true; but Raoul figured that it might dissuade the Phantom from whatever he was thinking of doing. If anyone was going to be Christine's knight in shining armor, it would be him.

Raoul's words stung Erik slightly; the thought of Christine fearing him was more than he could stand... but he remained passive.

"Nonetheless," he said. "I _will_ help you find her."

"No!" said Raoul. "I know better than to trust you word where Christine is concerned!"

"I want only the assurance of her safety, I do not wish to steal her from you, boy!" Erik roared. "God knows I should have kept her here, with me. If I had made her keep her promise, she wouldn't be gone now, would she?"

Raoul had no response to that. It was probably true, but he was too proud to admit it. He sighed. "Where do you think she would have gone, then?"

Erik pursed his lips together, thinking for a moment. "I do not think she would have left voluntarily," he said after a pause. "I think she was taken."

Raoul looked horrified. "Taken? By whom?"

Erik shrugged. "I don't know. But whoever it is... will pay," he said menacingly, casting a glance at the Punjab lasso, still laying on the ground. His hand twitched as though he wanted to pick it up.

Raoul took an involuntary step back.

"What about to her father's grave?" he suggested. "She's gone there before..."

Erik remembered the last time Christine had gone to the graveyard. She had gone in search of an Angel... and disaster had struck.

"Perhaps," he said. He turned to retrieve his black cloak from where it sat on the organ. Putting it on, he said, "Come. We should hurry. If she is there... we'll find her."

Raoul didn't move. "I want your word," he said.

"On what?" Erik asked, green eyes flashing beneath the mask.

"That you won't try to make Christine love you. And that you won't kill me," he added as an afterthought.

"I have already pledged to the former, boy," Erik said. "As to the latter," he sneered. "I can only promise not to harm you as long as you give me no reason to. But one_... slip_..." he bent down to pick up the lasso, "and you might find that certain destinies cannot be controlled."

Raoul turned pale, but overlooked it. "Very well," he said gruffly. "We should go."

"Wait," said Erik, disappearing down the dark hall for a moment. Raoul considered running for it, but remembered the Phantom's warning and decided against it.

When Erik returned, he was carrying his long, thin sword in its sheath. Raoul raised an eyebrow.

Erik merely said, "At least one of us will be armed should the need arise."

Raoul sensed the unspoken words, If we meet any adversaries, I can defend myself while you die.

He frowned, and looked as if ready to open his mouth, but Erik had already passed, sweeping down the stone steps to the water's edge.

"Come on," he growled impatiently, stepping into the water.

Raoul followed, and they made their way through the subterranean passageways in silence. Raoul noticed that Erik wasn't taking him the way that he had come on his way in. Part of him had the sinking suspicion that the Phantom would lead him deep into the labyrinthine tunnels and murder him - or worse, abandon him to die there. At the thought of this, Raoul shuddered and slowed his step, putting a bit more space between himself and the masked man in front of him.

A moment later, they were plunged into an unforgiving darkness, and Raoul was forced to stay closer to Erik for fear of being lost forever.

Finally, the Phantom stopped abruptly, and Raoul, who had let his mind wander, careened right into him. Erik made a deep, angry-sounding throaty noise, but said nothing. Instead, he opened what Raoul discovered to be a door, though how he had found it in the dark, the Vicomte had no idea.

"This way," Erik growled. They emerged onto the streets of Paris, in an alley behind the Opera. The sky had grown unnaturally dark in the time Raoul had been underground; when he had arrived at the Opera, the sun had been shining, but now it had been replaced by dark, threatening clouds. A thick fog was rolling in as well, and had cleared the streets of most people.

The Vicomte shivered- it seemed to be an omen of ill things to come.

Erik put up the hood of his black cloak, completely concealing his face as he moved out onto the main street. He hailed a cab that was passing by, and slipped inside, saying only, "To the cemetery."

Raoul hurried in behind him, and the brougham sped off at once.

When they arrived at the cemetery, Erik paid the cab driver off with a few coins, then started briskly off to the grave of Charles Daae, paying no attention to Raoul.

He heard the boy calling out anxiously: "Christine? Christine!"

But he was left unanswered; the tomb was deserted.

"Where is she?" Raoul exclaimed in disbelief. "If she's not here, where else would she be?"

He looked over at Erik, as though expecting to get some kind of response. But the phantom wasn't paying attention to his words; instead, he was studying the tomb. Slowly, like a dark, hulking shadow, he climbed the steps almost reverently, coming to the wrought-iron door of the tomb. He reached out his hand to open the gates, when the Vicomte said suddenly, "What are you doing?"

He turned halfway around, showing only the masked side of his face.

"I'm looking for answers," he said. Then, more softly as he pushed the gates open, he said, "There's something here... something about this place..."

He entered the tomb. It was a small room, about seven feet deep, with a large coffin in the center, and a small altar.

"Nothing," Raoul said miserably, coming in behind him. "It's a dead end. Maybe we should go to the police- report a kidnapping or-"

"_Silence!_" Erik snapped, whipping around to face him with a threatening stare.

Raoul closed his mouth.

Erik began circling the tomb slowly, staring at it as though it were a great mystery that he was unable to puzzle out. There was something pulling his concentration to this place... something wanted him to stay there... there were answers to be found here.

He felt as though some other force took over his body as his hands reached out, clad in gloves of black leather, and lifted the lid of the tomb.

Raoul's jaw dropped open.

Not only was the tomb not sealed in any way, instead of a body lying inside there was...

"A hidden staircase!" the Vicomte proclaimed, upon seeing the gaping hole that lead deep underground. "But... how?"

Erik, too, looked astonished. It seemed so unbelievable, and yet, here it was.

"Christine is down there," he said.

"What?"

"Down there. I know she is."

Raoul forced a laugh. "How can you know? You just said two minutes ago that you had no idea where she was, and now you want to go exploring down dark, death-infested tunnels following a hunch?"

"Don't argue with me, boy!" he said. "Something tells me that she is here, and I intend to find her. If you wish to argue, I suggest you leave and let me search for her."

"And let you seduce her once more with your demonic voice?" Raoul said sarcastically. "No way in hell, Phantom. I'm going with you."

"Fine," Erik said, now past the point of being annoyed. One more straw, and he would be ready to murder... Still, he thought, the fop could have his uses...

"You go first," Erik said.

Raoul paled. "Why me?" he asked, and Erik was pleased to hear his voice rise whinily.

Erik's hand on the Punjab lasso silenced any more of Raoul's hypothetical protests.

"How do I know you won't kill me?" he asked, glancing nervously down the steep staircase?"

Erik laughed darkly. "Don't tempt me, boy. Move!"

With one last, uncertain look down the dark tunnel, Raoul began his descent.

* * *

A/N: And down to hell they go... literally! Horrors and torments await them... lots of angst, too! Yay for angst! 

Next chapter: As Raoul and Erik's search continues, find out what happened to Christine...


	6. Angel of Music

Chapter 6- Angel of Music

A/N: Just a note; I took the name Durza from Christopher Paolini's Eragon. I thought the name was awesome and that it would fit the character perfectly. So, credit goes to him on that one! The rest is MINE- all MINE! Muahahahahaha! erm... well, it's not actually mine, given the fact that Andrew Lloyd Webber owns rights to the musical, and the original book technically belongs to gaston leroux….. but whatever….

* * *

To her despair, Christine felt herself regaining consciousness. She had passed out to the sound of the gypsies' wild chanting and her dreams while she had been out had been a fervent whirling of colors, and the songs of their strange tongues...

Lying there alone (or at least, she thought she was alone) Christine thought of what the gypsy had said to her. A moment of true love... she thought. That was why she was here. Her love for Erik had been her damnation.

_But it's all wrong_, she thought. _I don't love him... I love Raoul!_

Her hand automatically moved to her throat, where she wore her engagement ring still. She hadn't put it on since she had left the Opera... she had told Raoul that she needed time...

_I love Raoul_, she thought resolutely.

She could practically hear her mind laughing at her scornfully. _If that's true_, her intuition informed her, _then you wouldn't be here now, would you?_

She tried to tune out the voice in her head, but it persisted.

_You know that he still haunts you... You know that you dream of him every time you close you eyes... You know that you wish for a second chance, that if you could go back... _

_But there is no going back_, Christine thought. _No chance of returning_.

She suddenly felt very alone- more alone than she had ever felt before. How would she live down here? She asked herself. The creature- the gypsy- had said that she was damned for all time...

The thought of living here forever made Christine's soul tremble with fear. She would go mad in this place of death, of that she was certain.

As the minutes passed, madness itself seemed to be sitting with her in the room; her only companion in the Hell she was trapped in.

Some time later, she was fully frustrated and on the verge of tears, she began to speak aloud to herself.

"Darkness," she said. Her voice was soft, and it seemed as though she was afraid to break the silence. "So much darkness down here. So much cold. The air smells of death..." she laughed to herself. "Perhaps I have died. Perhaps this is my fate... my punishment for some sin that I have committed." She raised her eyes. "Is there life up there?" she cried out in anguish. "Can anyone hear me?" Angry tears stung at her eyes. She lowered her gaze. "No," she told herself. "No one can help me. No one even knows where I am? Raoul can't help me..." She drew her knees up to her chin, like a small child. A few more moments of silence passed, and then she began to speak again, though this time much more softly. "Where is my Angel of Music?" she whispered to the darkness. "Where is my guide, and my guardian? Has my voice finally passed beyond the point of his aid? Have I finally lost my last hope?" she whispered fearfully. Her tears fell harder and harder. "Father promised me that you would always be there!" she sobbed. "He promised... you promised... you promised me! I wish you were with me now... I'm frightened of this place!" Still only silence responded to her pleas, which became more frantic as she cried even harder. "Angel, please... hear me! Don't let me die here! I'll sing again... I'll sing for you if you save me! Angel... Angel... _Erik_!"

Her screams echoed throughout the labyrinthine tunnels, but they did not fall on deaf ears...

* * *

In a room far away from Christine, the gypsy who had spoken to her earlier heard them, loud and clear, as though Christine were standing right next to him. The poor girl was a pitiful creature, he thought. Her cries were those of a lost child, and children irked him. Soon, though, he thought, she would be educated on the meaning of horror and torment and pain. 

"_Durza..."_ a spectral voice floated on the air.

The gypsy turned his death's head toward the figure in the doorway. Another corpse-like man entered the room. "Everything is ready, my lord," the man said, bowing slightly.

Durza nodded. "Good. Everything is set. I am sure that Erik will come, and when he does... we'll be ready for him."

"Shall I proceed, then, my lord?" the other gypsy asked.

Durza sneered, his red eyes fixed on the heart of the flame of the candle before him. "_Yesss..._"

* * *

Christine was still crying much later. Though she had no time conception down here, she knew that hours had passed from the time she had awakened. She felt strangely removed from everything; her spirit felt as though it were hovering above her body, watching her helplessness from somewhere far away.

Her senses had dropped, and she didn't hear the deliberately quiet movement in the dark as someone entered the room where she was. When she finally became aware of the presence, she looked around, but saw nothing. Thinking it was an illusion, she closed her eyes... until she heard the sound of breathing.

Her eyes snapped open to the sound of a snarl. She shrieked in terror as she felt something grab her by the wrist. The last thing she saw was a pair of glowing red eyes, and then the world went dark...

* * *

A/N: and even stranger it gets! you guys will never guess what's going to happen to Christine... tis a bit morbid if i do say so myself. any guesses? suggestions?

Lots of luv to all who reviewed- reviews keep me going!


	7. What Horrors Wait

Chapter 7- What Horrors Wait

Chibi Binasu-Chan: I so hear you on the absence of Erik in the last chapter. I don't like writing chappies without him either. That said, he should be in most of the future ones! Yay!

TMOTN: I love that you love this story! And don't worry – you'll find out EXACTLY what happened to poor little Christine –snort-

Hyzenthlay-shine-dew fur- wow, what a name! (lol) yep yep… pissed off Erik is verrrry nice! Thanks for reviewing!

I Love Gerry- hey me too! (love gerry, I mean!) ummm, yeah I was taking artistic license on Christine knowing his name. I don't know about everyone else, but I thought that not giving the phantom a name was a mortal sin of Andrew Lloyd Webber. So in all my stories, Christine knows the name of her angel.

tasha- as always, your comments flatter me and help me to improve! I hope you like it and keep reading!

CloudxinxCrimson- once again, you made me crack up with your review! Keep 'em coming!

To everyone else who I didn't get a chance to name personally, know that I love each and every review that I get (provided that it doesn't say anything to the effect of "your story absolutely sucks and you should be banned from the literary community of the world. AKA a flame). But you get the point!

Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

Raoul couldn't see anything.

He had no idea how long he had been walking, trailing a few paces behind the phantom (who had taken the lead once more after they had entered the chamber), but his legs hurt, and each time he took another step, they screamed for rest.

And in addition to these complaints, Raoul had the sinking suspicion that they were lost. Still, the phantom showed no sign of slowing. He had not said anything after they had entered the tomb, and the silence was extremely disconcerting.

The moments continued to pass as they walked on in silence.

Suddenly, a sound from somewhere far away broke the deadened silence.

Erik stopped, standing perfectly still in the passageway. He cocked his head in the direction of the sound, listening with his eyes closed.

"It's her," he said.

"What?" Raoul questioned. "Christine? Where?"

"If I knew, we'd be there by now," Erik said sarcastically. "But we're getting closer," he added, before setting off again.

Raoul let out an exasperated sigh. Never in a million years would he have imagined himself tramping around miles beneath the streets of Paris with a masked madman, searching for his lost fiancé who had mysteriously disappeared.

But after another hour or so of walking, Raoul felt as though it were himself that was the madman. The silence was driving him closer and closer to insanity, and the stagnant air was stifling. Inside, Raoul was screaming.

Erik could sense frustration radiating from the Vicomte, but was too concerned for Christine to care, or to even acknowledge it. He didn't know if Raoul had heard what he had; he doubted it, as the Vicomte's senses weren't as sharp as his own. But Erik knew, beyond doubt, that he had heard Christine.

Screaming.

The memory of her voice, high-pitched and terrified- drove him forward with more determination than ever. He was consumed by the overwhelming need to find her and save her from whatever was the instrument of her terror. He couldn't let his precious angel remain here in the darkness- he wouldn't rest until she was safe.

* * *

When Christine opened her eyes, she was overcome by a sudden wave of claustrophobia. Everything around her was dark, and she sensed that the air around her was packed very tightly. She blinked a few times, trying to remember what had happened after she had blacked out, but found that all memories had left her. She felt detached from her living self; she felt alone and dead.

_Dead..._

She tried to sit up, but was forced back down as her head came in contact with something hard... something wooden...

She reached up her hands, pressing against whatever it was that contained her. Nothing budged, but she felt that it was indeed something wooden; it felt smooth and polished. Her heart began to thud unpleasantly against her ribcage. She tried to spread her arms out, but felt the same constricting slabs of wood on her left and right as well.

Christine began to panic.

She was trapped in a space so small that she was unable to even lift her head. Frantically, she pounded on the sides as best as she could, though the lack of space impaired her movements. This attempt proved useless.

A cold feeling of realization hit her suddenly, as the tightly compacted air seemed to choke the life out of her. She was lying on her back, in a coffin.

She, Christine Daae, had been buried alive.

* * *

A/N: cliffie! I'm soo evil, i know. you like? lemme know! 


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